12 Minutes
by fortheloveoffaberry
Summary: [Will not be continued. Sorry for the inconvenience.] After each Quinn and Rachel's lives goes to Hell they do what they must to survive. They rob the bank. The thing is neither of them knows that the other is going to rob the bank too. On the same night, at the same time, on opposite sides of the building.
1. Chapter 1 Prologue

**Title:** 12 Minutes  
><strong>Author:<strong>Fortheloveoffaberry  
><strong>Fandom:<strong> Glee  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-13  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I do not own Glee or the characters. All grammar mistakes are mine, unfortunately!

**Summary: **After each Quinn and Rachel's lives goes to Hell they do what they must to survive. They rob the bank. The thing is neither of them knows that the other is going to rob the bank too. On the same night, at the same time, on opposite sides of the building.

**AUTHORS NOTE: **This is my first fan fiction and it would be greatly appreciated if you could review it! This is just the prologue right now and it will get into more of the plot later on after I make Part 2 of the Prologue retelling Rachel's past.

**PROLOGUE (PART 1) -**

12 minutes. That's all the time she had to get in, get what she needed, and get out. Simple. She was Quinn-Fucking-Fabray she could do anything. In the last two years her life had been going downhill and fast. Once at the top of the pyramid, Quinn had everything she could ever hope for. Of course, there was always the loneliness and sadness, but in the world of William McKinley High School she would just put on a cold glare and sashay down the hall and students would part like the Red Sea. In that Hell hole that was all you needed to survive and be at the top of the pack. It was a 'eat or be eaten' kind of lifestyle – and Quinn refused to be eaten. That was until sophomore year when she un-expectantly got knocked up by the school's so called 'Resident Badass.' She got knocked down the totem pole in a matter of weeks and for someone who was always used to being on top, being knocked down was like a million bricks hitting her in the head. The feeling was horrible and she knew she'd have to regain her position as Head Bitch in Charge once the whole pregnancy thing blew over.

After she'd made sure her child was going to be able to have a good life by giving her up for adoption, she made her climb back up. It only took a little convincing of her former Cheerio coach to give her back the position of Head Cheerio. She adopted her old glare and came up with a fresh round of insults for anyone who dared look her way. But it seemed that wasn't enough. She still felt like she did when she fell down to the bottom of the pack. Even more alone, even more lost, even more confused. She thought once she was on top again things would go back to normal. She still expected the sorrow and pain, but now it seemed to be tripled. She would never admit it but there was one thing that did make her somewhat happy… Glee Club. Yes Glee Club, the nerdy show choir that is compiled of just a bunch of misfits. Artie Abrams - the kid in the wheelchair, Tina Cohen-Chang – the girl who faked a stutter and wears a lot of black clothes, Kurt Hummel – The gay kid who dates the guy that always wears bowties, and a whole handful of others. Then there was the girl that stood out most… Rachel Berry. Quinn had been the girl's torturer for years. She antagonized her and would make sure she got a daily slushy facial. If she really thought about it she hated treating the girl like this. To tell the truth, Quinn wasn't better or bigger than Rachel at all. And in _all_ honesty, Quinn might even go as far as to say she was a little envious of the petite brunette. Rachel's voice was magical. When she'd sing, she'd capture Quinn in somewhat of a trance. Quinn would always get a flutter in her stomach when Rachel would sing or even look at her. Those feelings scared her. And that is why she tortured her. She didn't want to think what those feelings could mean. So she did what any smart Fabray would do. She shoved her feelings out the door and on their ass in the freezing cold. She ignored them for as long as she could until she broke down. And somehow, those breakdowns always came when Rachel was around. Then something even odder, Rachel wanted to become Quinn's friend. For some reason, no matter how lonely Quinn was, Quinn pushed her away. She became more vicious until that final blow-up where she ended up slapping Rachel in the bathroom during junior prom. Immediately after, Quinn had apologized. And even after all that, Rachel still wanted to help Quinn and become her friend. Once again, Quinn turned her down, but laid off on the abuse. You could say that they came to an understanding with each other.

Junior year ended quickly enough after prom night and Quinn's summer was all about self-discovery. Glee Club's trip to New York opened Quinn's eyes. She realized life in Lima, Ohio would end in less in a year and she would finally be free to set off into the unknown. What mattered in high school wouldn't matter in less than 12 months. What mattered was Quinn becoming happy. Finding herself, doing what she wanted to do for the first time in her life. She wasn't going to live by other peoples standards, she wasn't going to uphold the 'perfect' image. She was just going to be Quinn. Who Quinn was… she didn't quite know yet, but that is why the summer before senior year she sort of went a little crazy.

First day of senior year Quinn walked down the hall acutely aware that all eyes were on her. As they should be because her perfect blonde hair was dyed bright pink, her dainty sun dresses exchanged for black dark jeans and long t-shirts, her cute little flats crushed with tall combat boots, and a very ironic tattoo of Ryan Seacrest painted across her lower back for all to view. This was the new Quinn with not a care in the world. She'd skip classes and hang out under the bleachers with her new friends, who were cleverly coined as "The Skanks." She even decided that she didn't need Glee Club anymore. She was perfectly content with this situation, or so she thought, until Rachel Berry came along and opened up her feelings once again. Rachel had found her under the bleachers the second day of senior year and said those fateful three words, "Whenever you're ready." Who the hell does that?

No one's ever told Quinn 'Whenever _you're_ ready.' It's always been, "Quinn do this, do that," "Quinn you're disrespecting the family name," "Why can't you just do this one thing for me?" No. Now it was, "Whenever you're ready, Quinn." Meaning that she can do whatever she wants and that it is still her decision with no pressure put on her shoulders, just pure understanding. And those simple three words somehow made a spark ignite in her brain. A flicker of hope, but at the same time a feeling of dread because right when she thought she found herself, she lost herself again. Except this time it wasn't a scared lost it was, "Am I really a Skank?" Also more like a feeling of hope that, "I can make something bigger of myself and I can take my time because I make _my_ decisions and I can do whatever I want when _I'm_ ready."

But then, all Hell broke loose.

Quinn's father died. He was coming home from the bar drunk one night and got in a bad car accident. He died in the ambulance. Now, to say Quinn was desperately grieving his death is quite an overstatement. After her pregnancy her parents had kicked her out, well… her father kicked her out. He wasn't very understanding. He was a person that had an image to uphold and having a 16 year-old daughter that is pregnant out-of-wedlock wasn't something to be proud of. So he did what any conceited person would do: he kicked his daughter out of the house with nowhere to go. So yes, saying that Quinn was bawling her eyes out would be the polar opposite of reality. Her father, Russell Fabray, was abusive and a senseless drunk whose daily life consisted of going to work, church, and the golf course with the work buddies. His wife wasn't much different. Judy Fabray would chat away at society meetings and club gatherings making a solid and perfect name for the family.

Judy and Russell eventually separated once Quinn was kicked out. Judy had apparently turned over a new leaf and wanted to make it up to Quinn. The first step to do this was to have Quinn move back in again, and that's what happened. Everything was actually going swell, to say the least. Judy had quit drinking, Quinn was on the Cheerios again, and everything seemed respectively normal. Until two weeks before senior year, Quinn's father came back begging for forgiveness. And, of course, Judy said yes. Quinn knew she was lonely, but she didn't think her Mother was _that _lonely. To crawl back into the arms of the man that threw out his own daughter and turned his wife into a drunk, to Quinn it was inconceivable!

When Russell moved back in it meant his income would be moving back in as well. While Mr. Fabray was out of the house, Quinn and Judy had been living off their ever diminishing saved funds and the small bit of alimony they were able to weasel of Russell during the divorce. But now that Russell's income was back that meant they wouldn't have to watch every penny.

Unfortunately they were wrong. Russell was a gambler. Neither Quinn nor Judy knew this little secret that Russell so perfectly kept hidden. Russell was gambling away their life savings hoping to come home big, only to come home empty handed. Their bank funds were quickly depleting, only to become moth balls and dust in the end. The Fabray family was definitely spending more than it was earning and that was going to be a major downfall.

When Russell died that meant his income flew out the window. Judy found out soon enough that they were in major debt from Russell's reckless gambling and inability to fucking balance a checkbook. Judy had to end up selling the house, Russell's old car, and anything that could bring much needed money into their household. They moved into an older apartment and sold things they didn't need to thrift stores and pawn shops. Though, this wasn't enough. They still were in major debt and with the interest rates through the roof, they were just burrowing further and further into the pit.

Quinn was actually feeling pity for her mother. She loved her Mom, she really did and to see her in such a lowly place broke her heart. It didn't much effect Quinn to be out of their "perfect" life-style because she had been there before. Being kicked out and pregnant at sixteen doesn't leave much room for job opportunities. But Judy wasn't as keen to the environment. Her normal high-society clothing had been traded for mere "commoners clothes" - as the people of the board would of put it. Judy wasn't used to this - Living in a small place, living on a budget, commuting place to place on _public_ transportation. Judy was so depressed she picked up drinking again. How she got the money to buy alcohol again was beyond Quinn, but she was determined to get her Mother out of her rut.

And that's when Quinn got an idea. Through all of her self-discovery and doing things whenever she was ready to do them, Quinn got an idea. A crazy, insane, and _perfect _idea. An idea that could either help her and her mother out of poverty or one to come back and forcefully bite her on the butt.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 - **_  
><em>

_Broke? What does he mean, "Broke?" How could we be broke!_

Rachel Berry stood in her kitchen with her two distraught looking Dads'. Leroy, the tall and handsome African American, stood next to his husband, Hiram, a shorter man who was obviously Jewish and had oval glasses. They were eyeing Rachel carefully to see how she'd react to their news. So far the only thing that had happened was her jaw dropping to the floor and she being rendered speechless. And Rachel Berry speechless was quite a hard thing to come by.

"Rachel, Honey? Are you alright?" Hiram tentatively asked.

Still, Rachel just looked on not saying a word. Of course that just meant her mind was running a mile a minute. She wasn't saying anything because she couldn't form a coherent thought to save her life! She just stood there, mouth agape, staring off into space. Leroy slowly walked over to his daughter and waved a hand in front of her face. Frankly, Rachel not blinking was starting to freak him out.

"Rachel. Rachel, Sweetheart. Snap out of it."

Rachel finally blinked her eyes. She closed her mouth and tilted her head up to look at her Daddy. Still, she didn't say a word.

"I kind of thought you'd be going into a rant right now. Informing us of how we should have taken more precaution about identity theft," Leroy said trying to break Rachel out from her spell. It didn't work. "And how we should of made back-up accounts. You are always better at taking precautions then us two old folks."

Uh oh, it worked. Suddenly Rachel's eyes became fire. Leroy knew that look and he was wise enough to also know to take a step back because when Rachel Berry is mad, she goes on a rampage.

"How could you two be such idiots," Rachel said coldly. She knew disrespecting her fathers like this could end up in a big punishment, but they did just virtually ruin their lives, "I've told you since the time I was 14 about identity theft when that nice old lady from down the street had her wallet stolen! I told you, _'Dad! Daddy! You better watch out! Someone might steal your wallet and then we'd lose all our money!'_ I did and you know it! And so now after 4 years of me badgering you about it, I find out you took none of the obligatory precautions! Do you know how imprudent that is?" She stared at her fathers in disbelief.

"Listen, Sweetie. We'll get the money back. We've already talked to the authorities and they said they would take care of it." Hiram said softly.

Rachel scoffed, "The authorities will take care of it? Are you kidding me? They have enough to deal with and they can't even handle that! So I seriously doubt that they would take time to help a gay couple get back their identity in the most homophobic town in all of the United States!" Rachel sighed and took a deep breath to calm down, then added, "I'm sorry for my outburst. It'd be better to deal with this as a family and not in a confrontational manner. It was wrong for whoever it was to steal you card and then blatantly spend all of our money. But still, the fact that you two didn't notice until now is beyond me, especially when you, Dad, are a lawyer!" Hiram looked down shamefully at the floor. His daughter was right to go off on them. They really should of listened to her and paid attention to her painstakingly long PowerPoint's. If they had they wouldn't be knee-deep in unsuspected debt.

Rachel shook her head and continued on quietly, "You know what this means, don't you? We don't have enough money for NYADA." Rachel quickly had tears spring to her eyes; she hastily wiped them away, only to be replaced with more fury. "No NYADA, Dad! My dreams will be ruined, Daddy! My carefully, planned and strategic life plan will be crumbled up and thrown into a burning fire! I'll be stuck here in this God forsaken town!" Rachel sighed and slumped into a bar stool. She knew she wouldn't be stuck here for life with her crazy levels of determination, but she didn't quite feel up to admitting that yet. She looked down to her hands as she said, "We won't even be able to afford community college. Heck, we won't even be able to pay for our house."

"No Honey, that's not true. We can pay for the house." Leroy knew that was a lie as soon as it left his mouth; and Rachel did to.

"Daddy, don't lie to me. I know we can't afford this huge house and our car bills. I suppose we should worry about the essential instead of the optional. So that includes the house, cars, and credit card bills instead of NYADA, New York, and singing and dancing lessons. I guess I could find part-time employment, as well." Rachel said, dejectedly.

"You don't have to do that, baby. This is our fault for being so careless. You don't have to do anything." Her Daddy said.

"No, Daddy, I do. I'm as much a part of this family as anybody else so I'm going to help out; and if I really want to get to New York I'll have to work for it, harder than I already am. Life is about making sacrifices, so I'll be giving up my dance and vocal lessons as to bring in more money to our household. Between Glee Club and practicing here I can keep up my talent."

Leroy sighed, "Alright, it's probably wise for us to let you make the decisions seeing how we can't even keep a credit card from being lost."

"By the way, you did cancel the cards, right?" Rachel said sort of absently, she was thinking of what job she could take that could showcase her talents.

The Berry men looked at each other and then at Rachel.

"You did cancel the cards, right, Dad?" Hiram just looked down very guiltily.

"Oh my God, Dad! The thief could be digging our grave right now!" Rachel practically screamed, "Go cancel it, go cancel it! He could be buying 30 wide screen televisions for all we know!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you guys so much for reading! This is my first fan fiction and I'm actually liking how it is coming along, and I hope you feel the same way. So please, constructive criticism and reviews are greatly welcomed and appreciated!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

Rachel sighed heavily as she made her way up the stairs. She looked around her, letting the enormity of the situation hit her. This wasn't just some simple petty crime of theft. This was fraud. Some – freak – out there stole her Daddy's wallet while he wasn't looking. They took all the credit cards, cash, his license, and even wallet photos. And then, as if that wasn't enough, they spent all the money. Rachel's Dad only caught on when they got the bank statement that morning. Over $170,000 spent. Rachel rubbed her face wondering how he spent so much money in so little time; also cursing her fathers for not putting the money in a savings account.

She walked into her pink room and sat down at her equally pink desk. She had to find a way out of this situation, her dreams depended on it. She grabbed some notebook paper and a pencil, and started to make a list of things she could do to make money. She wrote down some simple things like, "Get a job at a fast food place, work at a clothing store in the mall, start a lemonade stand." Then she chuckled grimly at the irony and wrote down, "Steal it."

* * *

><p>Quinn sat outside Lima's Huntington Bank. She had sunglasses on and was sitting in her little red 2008 Chevy Cruze. Quinn had done a complete 180 when it came to looks. She was back to her flawless golden hair, but her baby-doll dresses were exchanged for ones that clung to her body and showed every curve. It showed enough to be alluring, but not enough for her to be considered 'easy'. She had a perfect balance. She was the epitome of elegance. Of course, she had to dig these dresses out of the bottom of her mother's closet. They were ones that would never fit Judy again, but ones that she refused to get rid of. Now, Quinn was silently thanking her mother for her blatant stubbornness. If she was going to pull this off she had to look good while doing it. As of right now, though, she was wearing a tight, black pencil skirt that showed off her brilliantly toned bottom, and a form fitting white blouse. But, it was all in the sake of the mission. If she had it her way she'd still be hanging out with the Skanks and learning to ride a dirt bike, but right now she had a job to do.<p>

She stepped out of her car easily in her tall black heels; heads turned her way and stared. She could basically hear their thoughts, "Isn't that Quinn Fabray? The girl that got pregnant, and then went psycho. What happened to her, she looks like nothing ever happened?" Quinn wanted to burst out. "Keep your thoughts to yourself, bitch!" But right now, she was back to her old self where she had an image to uphold. So instead, she was the one who kept her thoughts to herself. She had to appear like the family still had money if she wanted the plan to work. _No __suspicion_.

A tall man opened the bank's door for her as she walked in; she turned to give a polite thank-you as she was taking off her sunglasses, when she noticed he was totally leering at her ass. So instead she cleared her throat, glared at him, said fuck-off, gave a curt smile, and continued on her way. Somewhere around the "Fuck-off" the man's eyes raised back to her face, and by the time the smile came he looked a little ill and hurried off.

_Ugh, men! _Quinn thought, scoffing.

She made her way over to the receptionist's desk and smiled sweetly at her. When the receptionist failed to do her job and say hello or ask what she could do for her, Quinn said forcefully, "Excuse me. I'm standing here!" The receptionist looked up at her a quirked an eyebrow. That made Quinn more angry because, hello! That's Quinn's look!

"Are you going to do your job or what?" Quinn asked, anger dripping through each syllable.

The lady just looked at her for a second, sighed, and said, "Hi, there. I'm sorry about the wait," sarcasm carefully threaded into the phrase. "What can I do for you, um Ms….?"

"Fabray." Quinn said, rolling her eyes, I mean really, who doesn't know her with all she's been through.

"Right, Ms. Fabray. To what do we owe the pleasure of you visiting Huntington Bank this afternoon?" Sarcasm continuing to just ooze out the lady's pores.

"I would just like to speak to an accountant... _please_." Quinn said the last word through clenched teeth.

"Anyone you would like to see in particular?"

"No, I just need someone I can discuss my money and personal business with." Quinn was getting impatient, how long did this have to take!

"Alright, let me see who is available." She gave an agitated sigh and turned to the computer. She clicked a few buttons and a smirk appeared on her face. It was gone just as quickly though, but Quinn had caught it. She _was_ the pro of smirks. The receptionist turned back to her with the worst portrayal of innocence and sincere apology Quinn had ever seen. And that is saying a lot, had you seen her father? "I'm sorry ma'am; we don't seem to have anybody available to chat right now."

Quinn rolled her eyes, not even trying to hide it, and took a look around. She saw 3 people all in desks doing, what seemed to her, absolutely nothing. She turned back and got closer to the woman and whispered, "I don't know what your problem is, but I don't believe I've done anything to you. So stop being a bitch and let me get done with my business. This is the best bank in Lima, Ohio and I'm positive there are at least three people in here than can help me out. So like I said, stop being a bitch or I'll give you to a reason to hate me." The woman looked up a Quinn and quirked an eyebrow. Oh my God, like, seriously?

"See that guy over there, he's sort of a pervert, but he's probably the best guy here that can help people with their money problems. He's a wizard with accounting and math." She said in somewhat of a monotone. Quinn knew what she was doing because she'd done it before: going into a monotone to not show any emotion; to go into a blank state. She didn't know if she was doing it because she was hurt, or trying not to last out. It bothered her not knowing... Maybe that's why they didn't like each other, they were too much alike. Quinn shrugged it off, gave the woman her own quirked eyebrow, and made her way over to the reasonably handsome man.

He was staring down at some papers rather intently when Quinn gave a soft knock on the desk. He looks up and unabashedly scans over her body. His intense gaze makes Quinn a bit uncomfortable, but she keeps a straight face and a light smile. His eyes turn to her face and gives her a shrewd grin.

"Hello, I'm Quinn Fabray."

"Ah! Ms. Fabray, Hello! I'm Mark Calloway. Take a seat. How are you and to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I'm here to discuss some of my financial problems. I was wondering if you would help me out." Quinn stated as she sat in the chair in front of his desk.

"Of course! That is what I'm here for!" he said a little too cheery. "First, let's start out with you telling me what the problem is and we'll work from there."

"Well, you see, my family is in sort of a financial rut. I came here, actually, to see if I could possibly get a job? I don't have any background in finances, but I'm in the 3 top of my class. I know I'm only 18 and I haven't gradua-"

He cut her off with a hand in the air and said, "I'm sure we could find something for you to do. Now, I'm not really the one you should be talking to, I'm just an accountant – the best one, mind you. I can give you a good word, but you'll really have to talk to my boss about a job position."

"Is he available, right now? A job here would great if I could get it as soon as possible."

He looked her over again, but in a way that was scrutinizing and sizing her up for the job. It took all of Quinn's willpower to not flinch. "I'll go see if he is busy."

Quinn gave a quick smile, "Thank you," and with that the man walked off.

Quinn sighed and took in her surroundings. Everything was going as planned, except for the few rude encounters. All she needed now was for the boss to except her and give her a position. For her plan to work, any position would play out well. Hell, even becoming a janitor could help her plan develop nicely.

After waiting about 10 minutes another man came around the desk and introduced himself. She stood up and shook hands, while he said,

"Hello, I'm Duke Sizely. I'm the head here at Huntington Bank. I was told you were interested in pursuing a job with us."

"Quinn Fabray, and yes, I'm very interesting in trying to follow a career here."

"I think we can manage that. You seem like you have a good head on your shoulders. Of course I'm going to have to do a 'proper' interview with you; state-regulation,' he sighed, "Would you like to do it now, since I'm free, or would you like to schedule an appointment, so you're better prepared?"

"Oh no, an interview now would be perfect. The sooner the better, you know?"

He chuckled, "Yes, of course. Alright, let's get started then. Why do you feel you want or need to pursue a job here at Huntington Bank?"

Quinn thought the question over. She obviously couldn't tell him the real reason she wanted a job here. It wasn't smart to tell your future boss that you plan on robbing his bank from the inside; special-op's and shit.

"In all honesty, I need the job so I can support my family. My father died recently and my mother is far too depressed to get a job. I need the money so I can pay for our financial needs and I can continue to save for college." There. She thought that answer was good enough. It wasn't really a lie. It was true, but just not _all_ of the truth.

"I'm sorry for your loss." He said. It shocked Quinn that it came past her as sincere.

"Oh, thank you. Sorry to bother you about the news..." She said kind of softly. She needed to convey sorrow for her father's death. These types of men always fell for the 'sad lady' trick. They don't want to see a lady cry, so they give them what they want.

"Oh trust me, it's no problem…"

"Let's just get on with the interview." She said with a soft smile. She knew she had him in the bag.

"Yes, of course. Um, well, we are going to need to see your high school transcript and grades. Seeing as how you haven't graduated yet might lead to work hour complications, but I'm sure we can work something out. Do you have any experience in this field of work?"

"Unfortunately, I don't. My best classes are math and English, though, if that means anything. I'm a fast learner and if you gave me something with numbers I can figure it out pretty quickly, I'm sure."

"That sounds good. We have a training program for new employee's, so if you're as quick a learner as you say you are it shouldn't be a problem. Okay, next question… well, I'm just going to give you three and you give me a big, straight-forward answer, sound good?"

"Sounds great." She said back with a smile.

"Good. Let's see, are you applying for other jobs, how do you work under pressure, and are you willing to work overtime?"

"I'm not applying for any other jobs. I have my heart set on this one," she replied with a grin. _Charm his pants off_, she thought, "I work great under pressure. Better even. When I'm being pushed to do something I want it to be perfect. No - pardon my French - half-ass job is going to be acceptable with my standards. And I'm definitely willing to work overtime. I'll work nights and weekends; whenever possible because I _need_ the money."

"You seem pretty determined, Ms. Fabray. Are you sure you can handle this type of job? It's quite a lot of paperwork and math calculations. You'll have to build your way up to a bigger salary. Also because you don't have a college degree yet we can't put you with your own clients. You'll most likely become someone's assistant, a filer, or someone who does the excess math work. Are you sure you're okay with that?"

"It sounds like just what I need."

He eyed her over and said, "You start on Monday. I don't have an actual position for you, as of yet, but you seem to be exactly what this company needs," Quinn laughed at the irony in her head. _Yeah because what this company needs is someone discreetly taking their money. _"I'll have something ready for you to do when you come in. You get out of school at 3:00, right? So come in at around 3:45 and we'll continue from there."

Quinn stood up and reached out her hand. They shook hands as she said, "Thank you, sir, you won't regret it."


	4. Chapter 4

Monday morning was hectic. Quinn's alarm clock didn't go off and her shower's water just would _not _warm up. She stood in front of her closet looking for something to wear for school. This would be her first day back with her new look and she had to look flawless. Like that _wasn't _going to happen, anyway.

Knowing her school and their incompetence she could get away with almost anything she wore. Scratch that – she could get away with any piece of wardrobe as long as she wasn't only wearing knee socks and heels. She stood there for 10 minutes and couldn't decide for the life of her. She had to wear something sexy, but not over the top. Something that would give her a glow of superiority, but something that gave her a laid back edge, as well. Just because she was back to golden locks didn't mean she wanted people to forget she had been a Skank. She also had to make sure the outfit was appropriate for work. She just didn't have time to go home, change, grab a bite to eat, and then go to the bank. It just wasn't possible to do, _to her standards_, in 45 minutes. Quinn Fabray was _never_ late. Which reminded her, she had 15 minutes to get to school and she wasn't even dressed yet.

_Shit._

Finally, after much debacle, she pulled out a medium-length black dress that had cut out black-lace floral designs on top and some 3-inch, also black, heels. She had it from when she was a child, when it was way too big on her. Now that she looks back on it, Quinn believes that she was told to wear it to a funeral. She looks at the dress and it seemed too cheery for a funeral. Knowing Quinn's father he probably didn't like the family and decided to dress as if attending a party.

The dress now fit perfectly and wasn't at all childish looking. How her parents thought putting her in a dress like that at age 12 would help their image was beyond her. She slipped it on over her head and stood in front of the mirror.

_Great_, now she had to figure out what to do with her hair, and she only had 7 minutes left.

* * *

><p>Quinn walked through the doors of McKinley High feeling spectacular. She hadn't felt this good walking into WMHS in… well… <em>ever<em>. She didn't have a clue why, though. Maybe it was something in the air, or the new way she was dressing, or how she made it to school with a minute to spare. Or the way she just wasn't trying to prove anything. She wasn't trying to be the head cheerleader, or the new badass punk. She was sort of just being Quinn.

Yes, she was still acting like she had money. Even though, everyone pretty much knew her family went broke. But, today, when she walked into that building, people looked at her differently. This time it wasn't in fear or even in curiosity. It was it a simple way. In a way that made her feel noticed, but not judged; like they were accepting her.

_Splash!_

Quinn gasped in shock at the chill that ran down her spine and stung her eyes.

_What the hell!_

"Haha! How's it feel, broke-ass loser?"

Quinn didn't recognize the voice. She had yet to open her eyes because of the stinging. Her mouth was still hanging open and her voice was failing to work.

"You're one of us now! It doesn't feel good, huh? Think you can just stroll in here with a new hair-do every 3 months and change you personality over and over? Just because you look different doesn't mean you have power over anything, anymore!"

Finally coming to her senses, Quinn wiped her eyes with her hands and looked to see who her offender was. She jumped with shock. It wasn't a jock or a cheerleader. He was a _nobody_. She squinted thorough her throbbing eyes and tried to think back and remember who he was.

She gasped in realization. It was the last kid she had ever slushied. He was a member of the chess club and president of the debate team. Comeback to get revenge. Quinn had been egged on by her fellow Cheerios and walked up to him one day with a grape slushy – the worst kind.

"_Hey, Mr. Chess Club!"_

_Quinn pushed the slushy cup towards the boy and the contents went flying. They splattered him in the face – already starting to stain. The look of hurt of the boy's face made her stomach drop. She looked on in great pain, but managed to muster up a laugh in the sake of her image._

_She looked more closely at the boy. She usually would have walked off by now, but something about him was making her stand there watching him. She examined every creased line of him forehead and the redness that puffed up around his eyes. The way he started to shake from the cold and purple ice start to drip off of him and collide and mesh with the puddle below. The way he slowly rose his hands, and wiped the area around his eyes. The way he carefully opened his eyes, and made his way to look straight into her eyes with such hatred, she actually flinched._

"_I'm so sor-" She desperately wanted to apologize, but the words got caught in her throat. Her 'friends' came up behind her, still laughing and patted her on the shoulders. That knocked her out of her gaze and with a final glace at the boy she walked off._

Her image wouldn't stop her now.

"I'm so, so sorry. I never meant to harm you, like that. It's just that…" Quinn sighed as she tried to find the right words. Something told her they wouldn't be finding their way out her mouth.

"Oh shut it, Fabray. Your apologies and smiles won't get you anywhere. We all know how you are. You're just going to manipulate us all into thinking you're this perfect little princess now and don't want to cause any trouble and then BAM! You're gonna go and throw a slushy in all of our faces."

She looked at him a creased her brow. _Does sound like something I would do…_

After a second of silence he went on again.

"We all know that you hate every person here. You're broke now and you have nothing to keep you on top. No Cheerios, no money, no fancy clothes. Face it. You're just like one of us now."

"Well, I'm not denying that."

That shut the boy up. He most definitely wasn't expecting that.

"What the hell do you mean, 'I'm not denying that.' You're Quinn Fabray, you should be killing me by now. At least yelling at me about how you'll always be better than me. How I mean nothing and you'll be on top again soon!"

The words stung Quinn and she grimaced. "You have to believe me. I'm not who I was last year or even the beginning of this year. I'm making up for my mistakes."

He speculated that for a quick second and said, "Like I said, you are trying to manipulate me into thinking that you're different. You'll use your power of an evil glare and raised eyebrow just to scare me off. You're a horrible human being, that doesn't deserve anything. So really, tell me, Ms. Quinn Fabray, all mighty, why the hell I should forgive _you _- of all people!"

Quinn looked down at the floor with her _still_ stinging eyes. "You shouldn't." She said quietly.

He looked shocked and like he wanted to say something else, but Quinn cut him off.

"Don't worry about the slushy, okay? Not that you probably even are, I mean, I _more_ than deserved it. I've treated the people at this school like shit, and I blame no one else but myself. I'm truly sorry for everything I've done to you and the whole school," She glanced around the hallway and noticed everyone had stopped and was staring directly at the unbelievable scene folding out in front of them. "All of you, I want you to know, I take full responsibility for every slushy thrown at you, every dumpster toss, every mocking name. I'm so, so, so, sorry." And with that, she gave a quick, sad smile and hurried off to the bathroom. The whole hallway watched her walk off with all of their mouths hanging open like a fish out of water and wondering how in the world the boy wasn't dead.

Someone in the sea of stunned students whispered, "Did _Quinn Fabray_ just _apologize_?"

* * *

><p>"Ugh!" Quinn stood in front of the bathroom mirror and scrubbed, and scrubbed. Of course he had to get her back with purple. The dang tint wasn't coming out of her skin. She waited too long. Stupid boy making her feel bad. She wondered if she could go back, act like nothing happened, and slushy him back for revenge.<p>

_No, Quinn. You are better than that now. Well, somewhat, considering you are planning to rob a bank._

She grabbed some paper towels and dabbed her face dry. Nope. Her skin was still a tint of dark purple. Suddenly, the bathroom door smashed open and someone was repeatedly cursing under her breath.

"This isn't good, this isn't good!" The girl said in a half-whisper. Quinn, wondering who it was, peeked around the small wall that blocked the view point of the door. Her eyes buldged out of her head because there stood Rachel Berry in the tightest dress she'd ever seen. Her eyes automatically scanned the small girl's body. From the bottom up, Rachel was the sexiest thing Quinn had ever had the pleasure of viewing. The girl also had 3-inch pumps on and her legs seemed to go on for miles.

_How the hell is she so short when those legs seem to go on forever?_

The dress fit snuggly around her bottom (which was facing Quinn) and carefully curved up Rachel's hips. It hugged Rachel's perfect figure and when Quinn's wandering eyes got up to Rachel's back, the smaller girl turned around. Shocked at what she saw, Quinn's eyes bulged out even further! The hem of Rachel's strapless dress had come undone and was falling off of her chest.

_Oh God. No bra._

Just before her eyes could focus completely on the glorious sight, Rachel's hands flew to the falling fabric and held it up as she let out a surprised, _yelp!_

"Quinn! Oh my God! Why are you purple?"

Quinn smiled at the fact that Rachel was worrying about Quinn's grape face, instead of her dress that soon would be showing off _too_ much of Rachel's gorgeous olive skin.

"Why are you dressed like _that_?" Quinn asked with a playful smirk.

_No more scaring her off, Quinn. It's time to make things right._

Apparently Rachel didn't catch on the the playful part and said, "Really, Quinn, knowing you I thought you'd be the first to compliment me. This is so far off from my owl sweaters that you always seem to resent."

"First off, I wasn't_ not_ complimenting you; you look fantastic," Quinn hesitated before she added, "And I think your sweaters are cute."

Rachel was the one to raise an eyebrow this time and said with a tone of disbelief, _"Really_?"

Quinn turned away so she could hide her blush, even though she was pretty sure you couldn't see it under the stained skin, "Umm… yeah. They suit you. They're actually pretty adorable…." Before Rachel could formulate any response Quinn said, "Do you need any help?"

Seeming to remember why she had come to the bathroom, Rachel looked down at her dress. "Yeah."

_Well, if that's not the most articulate thing I've ever heard Rachel Berry say._

Quinn walked over to Rachel and took a good look at the garment that was falling every which way. The hem was definitely the problem and the strings that had come undone were getting caught on the side zipper. It looked like Rachel had tried to pull down the zipper, thus making the string come further undone causing the threading to completely make one side of the bust fall apart.

"God, what did you do to this thing?" Quinn asked, "And you still haven't told me why you are wearing it."

"I was running down the hall to my class because I was late. I ran into somebody and I suppose the thread got caught to his bag. As I was running the thread continued to unlace itself, making the front of the dress fall off. I ran to hide and ended up in the janitor's closet. When I determined it was safe to go back out in the hallway without being seen, I ran to my locker and grabbed my 'Emergency Slushy Kit' – which actually I think you need, instead of me – and started to run here. But then I tripped in my hurry and everything flew everywhere. I was unaware I had one of my protein shakes in my bag and it exploded when I fell. So my emergency clothes, and the dress, acquired a dark stain." Quinn hadn't even noticed the stain. She was too involved at staring at Rachel's ass. Though, she'd never admit to it. "So I ran here because the bell was about to ring and I didn't want to have my breast falling out in the middle of the hallway. Which, you know, would not be optimal because of all the dang perverts at this school." Quinn blushed and turned around at the word pervert, since she was pretty much ogling her a second ago.

Rachel took a deep breath and looked at Quinn waiting for a rude comment or something about how her coordination is totally off and she rambles way too much.

_God, her rambling is adorable, too. Oh, she's looking at me. I should probably say something._

"Well isn't this the most unfortunate series of events. I, myself, got slushied this morning. I spent, forever, trying to pick out what to wear, too!" Quinn huffed and added, "I don't have any extra clothes and it seems, now, that neither do you. Do you want to come over and try to get some clothes that we can wear. I'll drive. I know how you are about your attendance record so we would come back to school, of course," Quinn smirked and said, "And then, maybe, you'd tell me why you were wearing that stunning dress at this hideous school."

Rachel pondered this for a moment and replied, "Okay. But, you'll have to tell me why you were slushied and why there isn't an ambulance in the school parking lot right now doing CPR on a student."

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><p><strong>AN: I would of continued, but I got tired of writing, haha. As always it would be awesome if you could review for me, and tell me what you think! Thank you for reading!<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: I don't really like how the last chapter ended so I'm hoping this chapter makes up for it! Enjoy!**

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><p>They were half-way to Quinn's apartment when Rachel finally broke the tense silence that had been holding the car hostage.<p>

"So…why were you slushied? You're Quinn Fabray, you don't get slushied. Well except for the time when you were pregnant, which still I don't think was right. You shouldn't ever harm a pregnant woman. It's totally immoral. If you want my opinion slushy-ing anybody for any reason is quite absurd. I should know, since I have been under the hand of the staining beverage more than a few times. Also, I'd like to point out that - "

_You might be beyond adorable when you ramble, but this is getting ridiculous. _

"Berry. Shut up."

Rachel became quiet and looked out the window. The leaves were beginning to change color and fall to the ground. Rachel had always loved this time of year. Everything was serene and, to her, it made it seem like life was full of endless possibilities. If the trees had the strength the stand up for so long, year after year, and change their leaves every few months, Rachel was pretty sure she could do it too. She sighed and turned back to Quinn. She stared for a few moments until she caught Quinn give her a sideways glace out of the corner of her eye.

"What?" Quinn asked softly, eyes never leaving the road.

"I just thought I agreed to come with you because you said you would tell me why you were slushied this morning."

"I agreed to tell you if you told me why you're wearing that dress." Quinn replied, in a 'matter of fact' sort of tone.

Rachel scuffled in her seat and huffed. "I assume that was the agreement we decided on."

"Exactly, so are you going to tell me or not?"

Quinn looked over at Rachel for a quick second, to see the wheels seriously turning in Rachel's head.

"I was trying to impress somebody."

Quinn's eyebrows rose a bit and answered, "Really, now? Who would this somebody be?"

"Really, Quinn, I don't see why any of this is your business. I don't even know why I agreed to come with you. You and I are not of the best of terms, if you have not noticed. We aren't even friends. Why should I tell you, of all people, who I like? You would probably use it as ammunition against me, make fun of me."

Quinn's insides clenched and she gripped the steering wheel harder. She pulled over to the side of the road knowing that with her insane emotions she might swerve them into a tree.

"Rachel. I – I'm so sorry. I just – I never meant to hurt you."

"Never meant to hurt me? Are you kidding, Quinn? You threw slushies at me every day! Or on the days when you couldn't hurl colored ice at me, you would throw mocking insults instead! Do you know how painful that is?"

Quinn's eyes started to water up. She needed to express to Rachel that she never wanted to hurt her. It was just that she was scared and too caught up in the popularity status to show her, her feelings. Truth was, Quinn liked Rachel – as friends, of course. Or so she thought. It wasn't until she saw her in the bathroom, rambling and having a conversation, as if her top wasn't falling completely off, that she realized that she might like Rachel a little more than a friend. So, she invited Rachel to come over to her house and share her clothes.

There's some logic for ya.

Quinn looked down at her hands and said, "Rachel, you have to believe me. You will never know how truly sorry I am for treating you the way I did. You're a beautiful person and you don't deserve to be treated in such foolish ways," Her eyes moved up to looking into Rachel's, "I was scared, Rachel. It isn't easy being Head Cheerio. They taunt you and push you to do things you don't want to do. I was raised in a household where your image is everything. I was taught that if people didn't respect you, you were nothing." She paused for a moment and took a deep breath before continuing,

"One day, back in freshmen year, I lost my contact lenses. They fell down the sink one night when I was taking them out. I was terrified. Terrified, Rachel, because I knew my father was going to be furious. It wasn't the fact that I just literally drowned $200 in the drain, but the fact that I would have to go to school the next day with glasses. He hated it when I wore my glasses. He hated that I wasn't his perfect little daughter. It wasn't like I could help not having 20/20 vision. I stayed in my room until I was called to dinner. I was still reluctant then, knowing I'd have to face the wrath of Russell Fabray. I walked down the stairs as elegantly as possible, thinking that if I could prove I could still walk like a lady, he wouldn't be as angry. I was wrong," the tears stared to flow down her cheeks.

Rachel gingerly wiped them away with the pad of her thumb. Quinn leaned into the touch as she continued. She was determined to finish the story and apologize to Rachel.

"I walked into the dining room and sat up straight, properly placed my silverware, and carefully put the napkin in my lap. My father had looked over at me, and if I dare say it, he looked a little proud. When dinner was finally served and my mother had joined us at the table they asked me how my day was. I doubted, even then, that they actually cared. I had told them that everything was just fine, but then felt horrible for lying since I knew he'd get even angrier with me. I told him, 'Daddy, I have some bad news for you.' And he said, 'Oh, sweetie, I'm sure it isn't that bad. What is it?' But I knew better. Everything was bad in the eyes of Russel. 'Daddy, I accidently washed my contacts down the sink.' Then he sort of got a blank stare and said to me, 'Now, Quinnie, you know that isn't what good girls do. How are you going to go to school tomorrow with no contacts?' 'I'll wear my glasses, sir.' Then he got this pained look on his face and I knew I was in for some big trouble. 'Your glasses?' He had said, and I replied back, 'Yes, Daddy, my glasses. Those contacts were my last pair.' 'You can't wear you glasses to school, Quinn. You know how they make you look? Like a disgrace to this family.' Then my mom said, 'Now, honey, they are only glasses, I'm sure they won't _disgrace_ her family.' 'Yes they will! We are the Fabrays! We will not have some little pipsqueak with glasses ruin our image! Come here young lady! It's time for your punishment.'

"I was so, so scared Rachel. For something as simple as having to wear my glasses, I was spanked. No… now I'm not afraid to admit it. I wasn't just spanked, Rachel, I was beat. I was abused and hurt. He hit me. He was very strategic about it, too. In places where he was sure people wouldn't see the bruises. He hit me with his hands and belts and, one time he got so angry with me for saying I made an 89 instead of an 'A' he threw water glasses at me. One shattered and caught my ankles, thighs, and hands. The other crashed right next to my head and cut a gash behind my ear," She pushed her hair back to show the scar, "Luckily it was when I wasn't on the cheerios and I could wear my hair down so nobody would see." She sighed and looked Rachel deep in the eyes.

"I was just so scared from my father; that if I didn't uphold this perfect image and have people cowering in fear of me, that I'd be dead soon. Then my father died and I realized I didn't have to be scared anymore. I didn't want to become my father and treat people this horrible way he treated me and people he thought were 'below him'. That is why I was slushied this morning and someone didn't die. I deserved it. I know I more than deserved it. A kid from the Chess Club slushied me. A kid from the _Chess Club_! He taunted me and said 'How's it feel, broke-ass loser?' It was horrible, Rachel. It feels horrible. Not just the slushy-ing, but the name calling too. I apologized to him and the whole hallway for everything I have done to them. Slushies, name calling, dumpster tosses; everything - just like I'm apologizing to you now. Everything I did to you was wrong and horrible."

She grabbed Rachel's hands and gave a sad smile. "Truth is, Rachel, you don't have man-hands. And from what I saw in the bathroom earlier you are definitely not RuPaul." She gave a quick smirk at that little statement and went on, "You're short, but entirely not a midget because your legs seem to go on for miles."

She cupped Rachel's face with one hand and added, "You skin is incredibly soft, so I had no reason to call you Stubbles." She sighed and pulled away her hand slowly. She already missed the warmth Rachel's cheek provided. "I was also deflecting; defeminizing you. Because I – I just, never mind." Quinn had choked. She couldn't say it. She still wasn't ready to admit it to herself, let alone Rachel. The thought that she might possibly have feelings for the girl she hurt so many times was inconceivable. Quinn didn't think it was possible for the girl to accept her. Quinn was pretty sure Rachel thought she was crazy now.

Quinn had to take a long, deep breath to calm down. It had been a very long time since she'd let out so much emotion.

"I'm sorry I just dumped that whole load onto you. I just… I guess I needed to get it out. I've never told anyone that before." Quinn turned back to face the road and slumped in her seat. She glanced at the clock; 10:43, she had spent 40 minutes basically spilling out all of her emotional trauma.

When Rachel didn't reply she ooked over at the smaller girl. What she saw shocked her. It wasn't pity or compassion, but fury. Quinn tried to think back to what she had said wrong to make Rachel so mad.

"Rachel? Are you okay?" Quinn asked cautiously.

"Mr. Fabray did, _what_, to you? Your own _father_ did _what_ to you!" Rachel said, her voice rising slightly.

"It's okay Rachel. It's all over now." Quinn said, trying to calm the girl. All of a sudden Rachel was unbuckling her seat belt and unlocking the door.

"I'll kill him, Quinn! _I'll kill him_!" Rachel screamed.

"Rachel! Rachel! Calm down! My dad is already dead!" Quinn yelled back. Rachel slowed and turned towards Quinn. She already had tears in her eyes and started to cry. Quickly, Rachel reached over through her tears and hugged Quinn for all she was worth.

"Quinn, oh my god. If I would have known, I would have helped you! I would of – I don't know – I would have done something to make things better. Even through your sinister remarks and insults you never deserved to be beaten. Ever! Quinn, you should have told someone. I'm here for you now. I'm here and I'm going to be there for everything. If you ever have bad memories or something of the sort, come tell me. Okay, please?"

This made Quinn sob even more than she already was. She held on tighter to Rachel and said through broken cries, "Okay, but I don't deserve you. You're wonderful, Rachel, I shouldn't have your help."

"No, no, Quinn. Forget everything. All of it is in the past, okay, sweetie? We're going to start new. I accept your apology and I just really, really want to be your friend. It's all I've ever really wanted with you."

All Quinn could do was nod her head. It was all too much for her. She was finally able to come out of her shell, come out from behind her walls. Her emotional shield was cracking and she was more than glad to let Rachel in.

Rachel started to pull away from their embrace, but Quinn wouldn't let her. She held her tighter and buried her head in the crook of Rachel's neck.

"Can we stay like this for a little bit longer? It uh.. - it makes me feel safe…" Quinn said quietly.

Rachel kissed the top of Quinn's head, "Of course, Quinn."

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><p><strong>AN: I really hoped you liked this chapter. It was pretty fun to write, actually. I don't know if Russell is a little unrealistic or not, but I think it works for the story. I have more of the bank robbing plot building in my head. Next chapter they get to Quinn and her mothers apartment, Quinn tells Rach about her new job, Rach tells Quinn about her parents idiotic mistake, Quinn goes to her job for the first time and then we get to see into Quinn's head some more to see her plans and how she is going to execute them.<strong>

**Thanks for reading! Reviews would be appreciated! :D**


	6. Chapter 6

After sitting around in the car for another 10 minutes, Quinn finally turned towards the front and started up the engine. They drove in a comfortable silence until they reached the apartment complex.

"We're here." Quinn said softly.

"I thought we were going to your house?" Rachel replied curiously.

"Well when my dad died we found out we were in a ton of debt, as you probably already know. We couldn't keep the house anymore, so we sold it and moved here."

"Oh, I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be. It isn't as bad here as it looks."

Quinn stepped out of the car and rushed over to Rachel's side before the smaller girl could even unbuckle her seatbelt. Quinn opened the door with a small smile.

"Very chivalrous, Fabray."

"I try," she said playfully. She could get used to this being friends with Rachel thing. "It's this way. And sorry to inform you, but we live of the 3rd floor and there isn't an elevator."

"Ugh! How do you live?" Rachel said sarcastically and with a smile.

"Hey, hey! Just thought you'd like to know you'll be climbing 137 stairs in heels."

Rachel looked down at her feet and sighed. Stairs and heels don't match well.

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><p>When they finally made it to Quinn's door, it had seemed like a lifetime ago that they'd left the school. Quinn unlocked the front door, and let Rachel pass in front of her. The apartment wasn't nearly anything like Rachel had expected. The floors were a dark crème color and walls had been painted a pale crème in contrast. The furniture was older looking, when she had expected something more modern. There was a rather small television in the corner and a small ipod dock plugged in sitting on the floor. There wasn't a coffee table, side table, or dining table in sight and Rachel noted there weren't any pictures hanging up either. In all truth, the place was rather drab. Rachel was expecting it to be more charming and sophisticated, but instead she witnessed a place that had barely any furniture and seemed to only be a place of living and not a home. Quinn eyed her wearily as she watched Rachel's face take on several different expressions.<p>

"Um… I know it isn't quite what you expected… we had to sell quite a few things during the move. Trust me, if I had any say in how this place looked it'd be modern and have warmth to it. But you get what you get, and don't throw a fit, right?"

"…Right…" Rachel said slowly, still taking in her surroundings. "It actually isn't that bad here, Quinn. While it is a little bare, at least you have a roof over your head and an ipod dock."

Quinn chuckled, "Of course, I refuse to ever sell my ipod dock." She looked over at Rachel and remembered why they came here in the first place, "Clothes. Would you like to look over my _fabulous_ selection?"

Looking down at her current attire, Rachel quickly said, "Oh yes, very much yes."

They walked past the kitchen, that looked like it had been remodeled (by the apartment complex's expense, of course.), but hadn't been used too often. Looking in at 2 different rooms, one being a small bathroom and one which appeared to be Quinn's mother's room. From her quick walk-by she saw that Judy's room was a small desk and an old laptop on top of it. Underneath the desk was a printer, and across the room was a comfortable looking recliner. Out of the whole apartment, Judy's room looked like it held the most. She had all the 'expensive' things in her room and Rachel wondered if there was any reason to that other than Judy being the mother.

They entered Quinn's room at the end of the hall, and Rachel was surprised to find it actually had a much homier feel to it, even though there wasn't much in the dull room. Quinn had made it hers, you could just tell from how she had arranged what little furniture she had, and how she had pinned up a few posters. There was a poster of a few bands that Rachel hadn't ever heard of. She made a mental note to look them up later. Another poster was of Van Gogh's 'Starry Night' painting. It shouldn't of fit in with the other posters, or the room, but somehow it managed to blend - to make the room brighter and, even, _classier_. Rachel wondered if she could get Quinn to arrange her room sometime. _If she still had her room in the next month, that is._ Pushing the thought out of her head, Rachel looked around more of her surroundings. There was a mattress laying on the ground covered with a floral printed bedspread. There were 3 piles of books, stacked 7 high each. There wasn't a bookcase though. In here there was a small bedside table in the corner by the window that had different trinkets on it. She studied each one, and wondered what significance each one held to Quinn. Maybe one day she'd find out.

As they were looking through Quinn's closet, Rachel was surprised, once again, to see something she hadn't expected. From seeing all the things the Fabray's had sold, it surprised her that Quinn closet was still quite full. Looking through the perfectly organized closet Rachel started quietly thinking,

"_Wait, why didn't we just go to my house? It's closer and my clothes are there."_

"_Rachel, you're being rude. Quinn needed to change too. She couldn't wear your clothes."_

"_Then why can you wear her clothes? You aren't making any sense Rachel."_

"_It's good that I came with Quinn. She finally opened up to me. We are starting new, becoming friends, it's good that my dress ripped."_

"_Why did you wear that stupid dress anyway? What was it you told Quinn? To impress somebody? Who were you trying to impress Rachel? You know you were only wearing it because you wanted to wear the $180 dress one last time before you had to sell it for some extra cash."_

"_Well, yeah, that isn't happening anymore since its bodice is practically ripped in half. Thankfully Quinn was able to tie it up a bit in the bathroom."_

"_Yeah, she probably got a good glance at your chest area, you know it?"_

"_Stop being so crude! She wouldn't look at _me _like that!"_

"_Eh – you never know."_

"_As a matter of fact I do know! She's Quinn Fabray - pregnant at 16, straight as a board - Quinn Fabray."_

"_Oh you totally know you want her in your pants. Or up your skirt, rather, with her slender fingers and her beautiful hazel eyes, looking at you with unadulterated desire?"_

"_Ugh. You're disgusting."_

"_Calling the kettle black, little missy."_

"_How am I calling the kettle black?"_

"_I'm you. You are me. Thus you are disgusting as well."_

"_Oh you little ignora—"_

Rachel's inner monologue was cut off as Quinn chuckled and started speaking to her,

"What's going on in that little head of yours, Rachel?" Quinn was trying to stifle as laugh as Rachel blushed furiously.

Rachel almost choked and hurriedly said, "Nothing! I – I mean, nothing."

Quinn gave her an amused look and said, "Whatever you say, Berry. Found anything you like yet?"

Rachel gave a quick look over of the closet again. Two rows of shoes, one row of flats, sneakers, and flip-flops, another with a variety of heels and Quinn's signature oxford platforms. Hanging off the hangers were a few different dresses, but definitely not as many as she had expected. Maybe one or two that looked above even $50. They weren't her baby-doll dresses either. They were sultry ones. One's that weren't more than $20, but Rachel was sure with Quinn wearing them, she could make them look as if they were worth over $200. The rest of the clothing consisted of jeans and t-shirts, some from Quinn's punk phase. She decided she would go along with non-traditional Rachel Berry clothing like she had been all day, and picked out a tight black tank-top, a pair of skinny jeans, and some black sneakers.

"Hmm, good selection, I figured you would go for one of my skirts, of the shorter variety." Quinn winked at Rachel.

"My skirts aren't that short!"

"Hah! Yeah right!" Quinn grinned. Rachel could get used to Quinn looking at her that way. "Those jeans will be too long for you, by the way." Quinn turned and rummaged through a dark part of the closet. She pulled out a pair of jeans that were shorter, and would fit Rachel almost perfectly. "I didn't want to get rid of these when my mom and I were deciding which clothes we could and couldn't live without. These are my lucky jeans. Whenever I wore them something good would happen. I wore them the first time I tried out of the Cheerios, one time I found $50 dollars on the side of the road when it was about to go down the drain pipe, and the last time was the first time I saw-" Quinn couldn't do it. Again, the words got caught in her throat as she tried to say 'First time I ever saw you,' but Quinn was scared and couldn't say it. " - my favorite band in concert and they threw VIP passes into the crowd and I caught one. I can't wear them anymore, but having them around makes me feel better." Quinn blushed she hadn't ever told anyone about her 'Lucky Jeans' before. Not even Santana.

"Oh no, Quinn, I couldn't take your lucky jeans!"

"No, Rachel. It's totally fine. I can't wear them anyway. How about this, I give them to you, you wear them, and then maybe I can still get _lucky_." Quinn paused to let her words sink in. She couldn't believe she just said that, but she kept a confident face. She smirked and winked at Rachel, who was wearing a very shocked expression on her face. Quinn gave a light chuckle and said, "Hurry up and get changed, we've already missed 3rd and 4th period." And with that Quinn walked out, closed the door, with a very dumbstruck Rachel Berry staring after her.

"_Oh my god, did Quinn Fabray just flirt with me?"_

"_What was that Rachel, about Quinn being straight as a board?"_

"_Oh my god, do _not_ ruin this moment for me!"_

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><p><strong>AN: Yeah. So I really like this chapter. I don't want to mess it up so I'm going to stop it here. I know I promised last chapter that this chapter would have a whole lot more in it, but I think I'll just stop it here. Next chapter all the other stuff should be in! Don't worry we will get to the bank robbing in a few chapters... maybe unless I get totally involved in just writing Faberry senses and they're all I can write about ;)<strong>_  
><em>


	7. Chapter 7

When Rachel stepped out of Quinn's room, all dressed and pretty, she heard Quinn talking down the hallway. She walked down the hall slowly, and noticed the blonde was on her cell phone. Not wanting to disturb Quinn, she stayed half-way down the hall. She knew she shouldn't be eavesdropping, but she was too curious for her own good.

"No mom, listen. After school today I won't be coming home until around 5:40."

"I understand that mom, but there isn't anything I can do about."

"Listen, do you want money or not!"

"Well, you aren't getting any unless you let me do this! I'm eighteen, _mother_. I can get a job if I damn well please! Why, the hell, are you being so dramatic over this? Is this not what you want? Do you not want me to work so we can move out of this shit hole?"

Rachel now heard yelling from the other side of the phone. She must have been screaming pretty loudly to have heard it from where she was standing.

"No, I will not stop using this type of language! I can do whatever the hell I want now! Stop trying to control my life, okay? If I wanted to work as a prostitute I would, and you wouldn't be able to do anything about it! If I wanted to join the military, just to get away from the God-forsaken town, I would! But I'm not; I'm getting a simple job at the local bank! I do not see what the big deal is! We NEED the money. I'm working for it!"

More muffled screaming was heard.

"_She's getting a job at the bank? She didn't tell me that. Maybe I should look into employment there, as well. Why is her mom so heated about her bringing in money?"_

The next Quinn talked it was softer, and sounded exhausted and sad.

"Mom, please. I know you're worried. It's just a job."

Rachel snuck down the hall to get a better look at Quinn. She noticed she had changed into a dress, which was alluring, but was still able to be called work-appropriate. She supposed that Quinn had pulled it out of her mother's closet, since she hadn't seen it in Quinn's closet and she hadn't taken a dress out the door with her. Rachel's eyes unabashedly raked over Quinn's body. The dress was black and white, had sleeves and a medium-dipped neck-line, it showed just a glimpse of cleavage, but not enough to even be considered "too much for a working environment." The bottom of the dress was much like a pencil skirt, and made Quinn look very professional. Quinn was wearing a pair of black and white oxford heels, unlike her usual platforms. Quinn looked classy. You would never think she had stepped out of this leaden apartment if you had seen her in the street. You would have still thought she was high and mighty and living in a world of great fortune.

Seeing Quinn in that dress, knowing she was going to work at the bank, made Rachel's mind wander in ways that she didn't want to ever mention: Quinn up on a desk; Quinn bending over to pick up fallen papers; Quinn wearing secretary glasses; Men hitting on Quinn. The last one made Rachel have unsuspected jealousy crash on to her. She definitely needed to get a job at the bank.

"_Why do you need a job at the bank, Rachel? Just so you can watch over Quinn?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Very verbose, Rachel; but isn't that what she and her mother are arguing about this minute?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Why should you try to watch her then?"_

"_Because men are idiots."_

"_Quinn is quite capable."_

"_Yes. I just want to see her in that dress more; with those legs… and arms… and hips…and ass… and - "_

"_And you call me disgusting."_

"_Well! Look at her! She's a goddess!"_

"_You aren't even gay, Rach."_

"_So?"_

"_You're impossible."_

"_Leave me alone. I'm going back to my fantasizing."_

Unfortunately, Rachel was pulling out of her thoughts as Quinn started to speak again,

"Mom, please. I'm not going to get hurt. I'm just getting us money, okay? I'm trying to support us; you do what out of this lifeless apartment, don't you? I can do that for us. It will take a few months, but I can do it."

What Rachel and Judy didn't know was that Quinn was talking in double meanings. She was actually thinking about her plans to rob her new work place. When she arrived at the bank today she was going to scope out everything.

**Rule #1: **_Always be aware of your surroundings._

Quinn had come up with a set of rules to keep herself grounded. To make sure her plan was carried out and she didn't get carried away. If she followed the rules everything should fall into place and go accordingly.

Her plan was simple. Later tonight she was going to start mapping it out. Her plans were to scope the area - follow Rule #1 - to be sure to know every nook and cranny of her work space. She needed to become familiar with the area, and know where all the cameras were located. She needed to know at exactly what time the vault closed. She needed to know the exact time the teller's register locked for the night, and when the bars of their windows were secured. She needed to become friends with all of her co-workers, even the bitchy secretary. She needed them to all trust her. She needed to know which customers came on which days. She needed to know what all the bank forms did, and needed to know how to read and file them. She needed to know security codes. She needed to see where all the security guards were stationed, and which guards stayed the night at the bank, if any did at all. She just needed to lay back and look at everything. Survey her surroundings and understand the flow of the bank; how everything fell into place, and if everything worked like clockwork or if it was all go-with-the-flow. She thought clockwork would help work to her advantage. It would take a while, and she would make money while doing it. She didn't know her salary yet, but she was more than sure that it wouldn't be enough to get out of this apartment, and give them the life they desperately missed. They needed the money. Not just the money Quinn would be making, but all the money. And she was going to get it. Even if it meant working in a job that involved math and statistics – which she hated – but she was going to do it. Make a little money on the way, and then come in to the big bucks that she deserved.

"Mom, I promise. There is nothing to be worried about. I'll get back home before it even gets dark. I don't know why you're freaking out now, you never cared before."

"No! Mom, I didn't mean that!"

Quinn pulled the phone away from her ear.

"Shit!" she sighed and softly said, "I didn't mean that…"

She straightened out her skirt, and lifted her head up. From where Rachel was standing she was astonished how quickly Quinn was able to go from looking like a hurt puppy to the most confident girl in the world. Right before her eyes she had just witnessed how Quinn Fabray pulled it all together. She saw that she just pushed it away the bad and put on a fake face.

Not wanted to be caught eavesdropping, Rachel quickly scampered back into Quinn's room. She ended up wandering over to the Starry Night poster. It held her gaze, and she tilted her head. She never had looked at it before. Something about it drew her in.

She heard Quinn chuckle, and her head shot to the right.

"Find something interesting?" inquired Quinn.

"Uh, I just –" Once again Rachel was stumbling over her words. She didn't even know why this time. "This painting is marvelous. I just never took the time to look at it before."

Quinn sauntered over to Rachel, "Yeah, it is defiantly one of my favorite pieces, thus why it is hanging in my room. It doesn't really fit with the rest of the pictures, but it flows somehow."

"I was thinking the exact same thing."

"Well, I think we should get going. By the time we get there it will be Sixth period. What do you have?"

"Sixth period is my study hall, so I usually spend it in the choir room or auditorium. What about you?"

"A.P. English. It is actually my favorite. If you couldn't tell by the books scattered in here, or my obsessive reading when I was in Glee Club. Shuester can't keep an interesting lecture for the life of him." Quinn gave a good laugh, and Rachel was pleasantly (once again) surprised by it.

She smiled and said, "We've already missed half the day, do you just want to go hang out at the mall or go to the Lima Bean for some coffee?"

"What about your attendance record?" Quinn's brow furrowed. She actually looked concerned. It made Rachel's heart flutter.

"They count attendance in Third and Sixth, you have to present for thirty minutes in each class to be counted for the full class period. We've already missed Third and we'll get there 10 minutes before Sixth is over, so it doesn't really matter. One day won't hurt."

"I – uh, well okay. Are you sure?"

"Yes, Quinn, I'm positive."

"What about Finn? I'm sure he's worried about you." Rachel saw Quinn cringe a little, and Rachel wondered why.

"You don't know do you?" Rachel gave a small, playful smile.

Quinn cocked her head, "Know what?"

"I broke up with Finn over the summer, Quinn. He was being rude and never stuck up for me, so I pushed him out the door. I feel much better about myself than I have in quite a long time."

"Really? That's – well that's great. I'm glad you've come to the light and seen that Finn is a total oaf."

"So you aren't going to try to go after him, now that he's free?"

"He's a total buffoon. So no, I'm not going after him, I have my eyes set on someone else."

Rachel's brow furrowed as she tried to think Quinn would like. _"Well, whoever it is, I don't like them."_

Quinn gave a little smirk, "And speaking of which, since you broke up with Finn and you haven't had the want to go back to his rough, terrible, sloppy, lips, who in the world were to trying to impress?

"_Oh. Yeah. I told her I wanted to impress somebody…. She told me the truth. I suppose I should tell her."_

"Myself?"

Quinn stifled laughed, "What?"

"Uhm… yeah. You see, my family is also in a financial bind, at the moment."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Well, you see, my father's aren't the best with managing money; in terms of they don't watch it well – _literally_. In terms of budgeting, certain items, they manage money well, except when it comes to saving and _not losing their wallets_." Rachel said the last part bitterly, throwing her eyes to the ground, scowling.

"Are you saying your father's lost their wallets?"

"Yes. My Daddy, Leroy, was ignorant enough to leave his wallet on the counter of the store, with all of the family credit cards, his license, and even social security card." She looked up at Quinn and Quinn was shocked to see Rachel so angry, she seemed even more furious from when she threatened to kill Quinn's already dead father.

"An evil – an evil thief – stole my father's wallet and used all the money. It was days before my Daddy even noticed it was gone! Days, Quinn! The thief bought over $170000 in all sorts of different things. How is that even possible? How does some have the audacity to just steal somebody else's money and have the guts to spend it all? What drives you to such an atrocious thing? Why can they not work for the money like everybody else? We're broke, Quinn!"

Quinn let her rant as Rachel's words soaked in. How could she just take somebody else's money and just spend it all? Would the guilt affect her at all? Would she even feel remorse, knowing she was helping her family live? By now, they barely had money for food. Soon they'd have to sell Quinn's car too. She wanted out of this life, and to do that she needed money to run away.

"You and I are in the same boat, Quinn. My father's and I are in poverty too, now. We're selling the house, and I'm getting a job. I haven't decided which job career I want to pursue yet, but I'm sure I'll find something." Rachel failed to mention her list of things she thought she could do to raise money. She felt like she was being a hypocrite considering that she wrote, 'steal it' on the list. She still needed to finish that list, by the way. "I don't know what I'm going to do. What we're going to do."

Quinn was hesitant, but she walked over and pulled Rachel into a hug.

"Hey, it – _shhh –_ it's okay." Quinn combed her fingers through the brunette's hair and the girl silently started to cry.

"It means I can't get into NYADA. And you can't get into the college you want, either." Rachel strangled out, through a choked sob.

"No, no Rachel, you're the most talented singer I know, you'll most assuredly get into NYADA. I promise. And if I go to college, I'll get in there too. Whether through our own payments, or through scholarships, you _will_ get into NYADA." Quinn soothed.

Rachel sniffled and pulled out of the hug, "Thank you."

"Of course, Rachel, with how much I dumped on you this morning it's the least I can do to listen and try and help you, too. I'll do anything to help you get to New York."

"Oh, you don't have to do that, Quinn. That's too much."

"No, no, I want to help. I want this friendship to work, and friends help each other, right?"

Rachel gave a small smile, "Yeah. I guess that is what _friends_ do… that's fun to say… friends."

Quinn grabbed Rachel's hand and led them to the door with a smile, "Yeah, friends." It was the first time either Quinn or Rachel had ever felt that the word 'friends' held true promise.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Reviews please! Criticism always help the story progress!<strong>

**Next chapter (if I feel like fitting it all in one chapter) will be whatever Quinn and Rachel do and then we go back to just Quinn and see her at her job and see her start to formulate her plan in more detail. Then we see Rachel work on her list and determine what she's going to do.**


	8. Chapter 8

On the road again, Rachel and Quinn make small chit-chat. Then again, it's more like a one-sided conversation as Rachel takes over the reins of verbal communication. Rachel goes into more detail about her fathers' mistake, tells about how she still loves them, even though she wants to kill them right now, and then goes off on a tangent and rambles on about all the things she could do to make extra money (excluding the stealing part, of course.) and finally, somehow after 20 minutes, ends up talking about how crazy it would be if she joined the football team. Quinn didn't get a word in the whole time, besides a simple head nod or an "Oh! That's nice!" Quinn didn't mind one bit though, she was smiling the whole way through.

They were heading towards the Lima Mall. It was pretty small, but it had the best stores Lima could offer. They pulled up, right as Rachel was excitedly talking wondering if her head would get stuck in the football helmets. Quinn had started laughing herself silly, as Rachel demonstrated the face she would make if her head were to get stuck in a football helmet.

After another ten minutes of rambunctious laughter, they finally were able to make it into the mall, still trying to conceal their giggles.

They walked around the mall, through the food court, and through a few different stores, all while talking about anything and everything. For the life of them, they could not stop laughing. They didn't even know what was funny anymore. Just one glance at each other and they'd go into a hysterical fit.

"Hey… Quinn. Psst, Quinn." Rachel whispered quietly while keeping her gaze straight ahead.

"Quinnnnn. Quinn!" When Rachel's whispers were going unheard, she resorted in elbowing Quinn in the stomach.

"Ow! Rachel! What was th-"

"Quinn! Shut up! Look at that lady straight ahead of you." Rachel hurriedly half-whispered.

Quinn gave her the evil eye and turned to look at the lady. Quinn's face distorted into a face of bewilderment and absolute sheer will-power (sort of making her have Finn's look of constipation, but much cuter), as not to burst out laughing.

"What is she wearing, oh god, and look at her hair!" Quinn squealed, "I'll admit that's worse than your outfits, Rachel." Quinn asked through crackling giggles.

"Quinn!" Rachel shrieked, playfully hitting Quinn's arm. "I'll have you know that my attire is perfectly fine, thank you!" She gave a fake huff, trying to come off really mad, but the fun smirk wouldn't wipe off her face. She turned back towards the woman and she couldn't help it, she laughed so loud! People turned looking at her as she buried her face into Quinn's shoulder trying to make her laughter subside.

This just made Quinn laugh more because Rachel's laugh was hilarious, just by itself.

"Oh my God! Rachel, stop laughing!" Quinn giggled!

"You have to stop first!"

"How, with a laugh like that, I don't think I'll ever stop laughing because of you!"

"My laugh is not funny" Rachel said, quickly sobering up and turning to face away from Quinn direction.

"Uhmmmm, yeah. It is." Quinn chuckled.

"No. It is not."

"Rachel… you sound like a hyena or an alpaca. Sort of like this, AK AK AK AK." Quinn burst out laughing again.

Rachel gave a side-ways glace at Quinn and she tried to hind the wide smile that graced her face.

"Yeah, well, your laugh sounds like you have a breathing problem, EH EH eh eh EH!"

Quinn gave Rachel a disbelieving look and burst out laughing again, this time Rachel joined her. When they finally calmed down, Rachel looked up and saw the lady again.

It took a while, and they were still having their moments, but they finally were able to walk into a store and look presentable while not laughing at every little thing they laid their eyes upon. They had gone into an old-timey looking music store, admiring all the records and portraits that graced the walls. Rachel scampered over to the vinyl's, while Quinn went to go look through the "no-name" bin, in search of up-and-coming new bands.

"No. Way." Quinn said a bit loudly.

Still pre-occupied with her Barbra Streisand vinyl she found, "Hmmm… what?"

"I...- uh—nothing. It' just well… you're gonna think it's silly."

"Oh, we don't need another laughing fit…" Rachel said deviously, scampering over to Quinn. Quinn quickly put the CD behind her back.

Rachel stood up straight and furrowed her brow. "What is it, Quinn?" An evil smile graced over Rachel's face, "Quinn…" Rachel sing-songed, "Let me see the CD, or else."

"Or else what?" Quinn played along.

"Or I'm gonna get it!" Rachel said grabbing behind Quinn's back. Quinn shrieked and fast walked to the other side of the store, Rachel hot on her trail.

"Come on, Quinn! You know you want to give it to me!"

"No!" Quinn laughed, dodging behind some music bins.

They ran in a circle around a large CD basket, laughing and bantering one another.

Finally, Quinn abruptly stopped and turned around, causing Rachel to crash into her.

"Omph!"

Quinn chuckled and thrust her hands out holding the CD, upside down. She closed her eyes and said, "Here you can have it. I'm nervous, I don't want to see."

_That is the most adorable thing in the world _Rachel thought.

She looked down and smiled when she finally was able to hold the CD in her hand. Rachel squealed _loudly_ as she turned it over and saw the cover.

"Hey, that's it! Out you two!" The manager said. "Come back when you two know how to behave."

He snatched the CD out of Rachel's hand and escorted them out of the store.

"Well, that's unfortunate." Rachel stated.

Quinn bit her lip, and looked down at Rachel.

Rachel looked up, "What?"

"We just got kicked out of a store." Quinn laughed, almost doubling over.

Rachel laughed along too and said, "Hey, hey, Quinn, stop it real quick. What did the manager say, 'Come back when we can behave'?"

"Oh no, Rachel. We can't do that."

Rachel flicked a piece of lint, that wasn't even there, off her shirt, and cleared her throat, composing herself. "I believe that I can behave. I'm a mature 17 year old girl, as are you."

Quinn hid her smile and straightened out her skirt, "You're right, Rachel. I believe that we can behave."

They held their head up high and strutted in.

"Hey! I told you two to get out!"

"No, sir, I believe you said to come back when we're able to behave." Rachel stated.

"You know what I meant!"

"You're right I did, you meant to come back when we were able to behave."

"That is what we are doing." Quinn added.

"We just want to purchase that CD you so rudely snatched out of my hands."

The man scowled at Rachel and went behind the counter. He rang up the total. "$8.21."

Rachel handed over the money and took the CD. She eyed the cover and let out a huge squeal of excitement and started jumping up and down. The man started to yell as the two girls high-tailed it out of the store, laughing their butts off.

"Why didn't you ever tell me you recorded an album with The Skanks?"

"I would have! But I didn't know they were actually going to put it on market!" Quinn smiled. "That is so weird. I was just going through the bin and I saw my face. At first I freaked out and then I realized what it was."

"So you can get royalties, now right?"

"Hmm, I don't know. Probably not, it isn't like I care that much anyway, or like it will make very much money."

"Yeah, I suppose. What did you play in the band?"

Quinn bit her lip nervously and said, "The guitar, and sometimes the drums. I also did backup vocals."

"You play the guitar? And drums? Since when!"

"I've been playing guitar for about seven months now, I'm pretty good. I took to it naturally, actually – five or six months for the drums."

"Why aren't you doing any of that now?"

"I still have an acoustic, but it's pretty beaten up. I got it at a garage sell for $20 one day. I sold my electric, and I never owned a drum kit."

"Wow, Quinn, that's," _a major turn on_, "amazing! I'll have to hear you play sometime!"

"Oh, no. I don't play for anybody anymore. I'm probably rusty too."

"Why don't you play anymore?"

Quinn sighed, "The last day I played was the day I found out we were knee-deep in debt. For some reason, I guess, it just affected my will to play. I didn't want to play anymore; I didn't – I don't – feel like I deserve to play such a beautiful instrument. I'm in so much shit already, I guess I don't feel good enough to just spend my time playing around and not doing something to help myself. I don't let anyone listen to me because it's sort of my down time. The Skanks are the only ones who have heard me play, but that was only when we were recording. I didn't even play during practice, I just had to reassure them that I knew the song."

"Of course you deserve to play, Quinn. Music helps the soul, body and mind. Maybe it will help you relax a little, and then you could start concentrating better on whatever it is that you need to focus on."

Quinn looked down at Rachel and gave a small smile, "Yeah, I guess that could work."

As they were walking they passed a gun store.

Quinn eyed it doubtfully but still said, "Come on, Rach, let's go in there."

"The gun store?"

"Uh huh."

"Why on earth would you want to go into the gun store, Quinn?"

"Why not?" Quinn said back, walking away from Rachel into the shop.

"Hi, Miss, what can I do you for?" the red-headed woman said with a think country accent.

"I'm just browsing, thanks."

Quinn looked down at the guns in the glass cases.

She looked at the shot guns.

_Too powerful._

She looked at the rifles.

_Too big. Too scary._

She looked at the old-time revolvers.

_Too annoying._

She looked at the handguns.

_Perfect._

**Rule #8: **_Keep your supplies to a minimum. Compact and easy._

"What are the requirements for purchasing a handgun?"

The owner looked at Quinn suspiciously and said, "Lima, Ohio requires the handler to be at least 21 years of age, you must pay with cash, and proof of a shooting certificate. After this is processed by the police department, your fingerprints are taken down in the station. You also need an ID."

"So I have no chance in buying a gun?" Quinn stated seriously as Rachel slowly and hesitantly walked up behind her. She hated guns.

"You're going to buy a gun?" Rachel asked disbelievingly.

"Yes, why do you think I came in here?"

"I don't know, to admire the craftsmanship?"

Quinn chuckled, "No, I came to buy one. But it seems I'm not legally able to yet."

"What do you need it for?" The red-head asked.

"Self-defense, obviously. With how _my life_ is going, you always want to be prepared."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen. I'm emancipated, though, if that makes a difference."

The woman eyed her warily. "Come in the back. Your friend can come too."

* * *

><p><strong>Next Chapter Will be about soon! I promise. I'm ending this here as a filler chapter. I'm starting to write chapter eight, right now :) All mistakes are mine because I didn't really revise or read over this chapter.<strong>


	9. Chapter 9

They walked through a heavy wooden door behind the counter. Inside the dusty room, were wooden crates, all holding a different label. Quinn's eyes scanned each one carefully. _"Scopes"; "Artillery shells"; "Bullets and casings"; ".12mm"; _and various others.

"Wait here." The woman said as she continued to walk on into a darker part of the room. Quinn stood her ground, looking on expectantly, but seriously, while Rachel was sort of cowering behind Quinn. So much for a day full of laughter, she was scared out of her mind right now. What if this lady was some kind of mass murderer?

_Rachel, you're being dramatic._

_Dramatic! We're in the back of a gun shop!_

_Yes, well, we're here with Quinn. I'm sure she'd protect us._

_We've been friend-friends for more than a few hours. I'm not so sure she'd quite take a bullet for me yet._

_Eh, you never know._

"Quinn, uhm, are you sure it's safe here?" Rachel whispered

"Yeah, sure. It is a gun store, if I needed to defend myself I could just pick one up."

"Yes, Quinn, but you see the thing is, you don't know how to use a gun."

"Actually, I do. Russell took me hunting and taught me how to use one. He was quite the gun coinsurer. And if I've forgotten how to use one, I'm sure in a time of need, I could figure it out – _especially if it meant protecting you._" Quinn said looking straight into Rachel's eyes. Rachel was shocked to see how serious and sincere Quinn looked. The blonde gave a small, nervous smile and turned to look at the woman who was coming back with a small wooden box.

"I'm sorry I didn't catch y'alls names. I'm Betty."

"I'm Quinn and this is Rachel."

"Wait. Quinn? As in Quinn Fabray?"

Quinn eyes her suspisiously, "Yes?"

"Well, dog gone! You're Russell's daughter! I thought you looked familiar!"

Quinn flinched at the term daughter, but was determined to stay looking strong.

"Yes, Ma'am I suppose I am."

"Haha! Well goodness gracious, child! You should have told me! He's the best customer I've ever had! How's he been doing?"

"Oh. Uhm, Russell died a month or two back."

Suddenly solemn, the Betty replied, "I'm sorry to hear that, kiddo."

"Please, don't worry about it. I'm healing up just fine." Quinn half-lied. The bruises still burned into her upper arms, two or three still lining her back. The ones that had finally faded could still be felt deep underneath Quinn's pale skin.

"Well that's good to know. Russell was a good, good man. It's a shame he had to leave the world so soon."

Quinn's eyes started to prickle with tears, but she pushed them down. Here there was, just another random person, standing in front of Quinn telling her how glorified Russell Fabray was. Nobody ever lashes out and threatens to hurt him. Nobody dares insult the 'almighty' Russell Fabray. Nobody see's past him charming smile.( _Except Rachel_… Quinn thinks with a sad upturn of the lips.) The one Quinn adopted so easily at an early age. The thought makes Quinn cringe. She doesn't want to be anything like her father. Ever.

"Yes… it's a shame." Quinn says softly looking at the floor. Rachel grabs Quinn's hand trying to silently convey comfort to the taller girl. She knows it's probably hard for Quinn to act like she cares about her father.

Feeling tension enter the room Betty tries to get things back on track, "You said you needed a gun right?"

"Yes Ma'am. But you already clarified that I'm not applicable."

Betty leaned close and whispered quietly, "Knowing your daddy, I assume he taught you to use a gun, correct?"

"That he did."

"About two or three months ago he preordered two new guns. They were just barely passed as legal a few weeks ago. They're nothing fancy, but they do a fair amount of damage. Your dad usually liked to go for the big guns, the hunting rifles and what-not. These guns are mere pistols though; he probably was going to buy 'em for self-defense." Betty said. The last sentence as a certain tone to it that Quinn really couldn't discern.

Betty looked up at both of the girls and eyed them carefully. "I asked you two to come to the back because I had a feeling something bigger was playing here. I brought out this lil' box here to show you the guns to see if this was the type of thing you needed. I wasn't just about to give 'em to you though. That ain't just against the law, darlin's, it's stupid too! But, now that I know who you are… let's just say Russell and I were on good terms. I have my ways around the system. Since's he gone now, and they're already paid for I suppose they now belong to you."

Of course this was the moment Rachel decided to peep up, after being oddly quiet the whole time.

"You just gonna – gonna give them to us?" Rachel asked disbelieving.

"Well not exactly just give 'em to you. I'm gonna pound you two with questions. But Russell and I have history, and I think I owe him one last time. It'd be immoral to just forget about him, now that he's dead. I need to make up for what he's done for me. And if that means breaking the law one more time, for his daughter to be protected, hell I'll do it."

Quinn didn't even want to know how Betty came to owe Russell. She just left that where it was and looked over at Rachel. She saw that she looked almost struck dead with an underlying sense of panic that was slowly releasing itself and making itself known all over Rachel's face and rigid body.

"What if we do something stupid with the gun? What if one of us gets caught with it? Why are we, I just – how does this even work and I, Quinn, I don't understand why the hell we're here." Rachel started babbling and started to tear up.

"Rachel… hey. It's okay calm down," she looked at Betty, "God, I'm so sorry. I know this is important, but can you give us a few minutes?"

Betty sighed, "Sure." And walked back out to the front of the store.

Quinn pushed a couple of hairs behind Rachel's ear and started cooing and lighting shushing her. When she determined that wasn't going to work she pulled Rachel into a tight hug and began to sing in her ear.

"Hush little baby, don't you cry. Quinnie's gonna buy you mockingbird. If that mockingbird don't sing…" Quinn doesn't know why she started singing that song - the most childish song, ever, at that - But it had a comforting tune, and Rachel started to stop crying and reduce the feelings into little snuffles. "Quinnie's gonna buy you a diamond ring." Quinn smiled into Rachel's hair.

_God, stop smiling like an idiot Quinn. Push the thought out of your head. You've only been talking civilly for the past several hours. No time to start thinking about rings. Pull your head out of the gutter._

"If that diamond ring don't shine, Quinnie's gonna buy you Wicked tickets." She heard Rachel give a little giggle, and Quinn slowly pulled away from their embrace.

"Are you okay?" Quinn asked softly.

"Yeah, I'm sorry I freaked out. I just feel uncomfortable here because I don't actually understand, _why_, we're here." Rachel stated as she wiped her eyes.

"My apartment complex isn't the safest one out there, Rach. There are hoodlums and creeps around basically every corner. Along with the way I dress, I don't feel particularly safe, but I am sorry that I dragged you here with me. I could have just come along by myself, I was being careless." She felt terrible for not telling Rachel the truth, but then again, it's not that easy to tell someone you plan on robbing the bank.

"No, no, Quinn. I understand your apprehension around your apartment. It's okay. While you could have left me out of this little ordeal, I'd say this has still been a rather fun day."

"So, you're alright. You can deal with me picking up a gun? You won't start having a panic attack, right? If you need to leave the room, or something I can come back a different time."

"I don't make any promises, but I do feel better. I don't think it will be necessary to leave. So let's bring Betty in again and take a look at these guns." Rachel gave the most adorable foot stomp and a face of determination Quinn had ever witnessed. Rachel was locked and loaded, so to speak.

"Alrighty, then." Quinn chuckled, as she walked to the door and stuck her head out. She held it open as Betty came back into the shadowy room.

"So, we're all good, now?" Betty asked.

"Peachy." Rachel smiled.

"Wonderful. Now as I was saying. I have my ways around the police system. I can get you a gun, Quinn. With all the legal papers and licenses and everything. It will take a week or two, but it can be done. I won't hand over the gun until I have it all sorted. We don't need you getting arrested for withholding an illegal gun."

Quinn nodded, "Why exactly are you doing this, again?"

"Like I said, your father and I were on good terms, and I owe him. I don't like owing nobody, even if they're dead. It just isn't right. I know you two are underage, and Quinn, you said you were emancipated? I can get it all worked out, right here. I'll send you two on your way and I'll contact you when everything is filed and well, I suppose you could say, legal."

Quinn nodded again, knowing Betty wasn't actually going to go into the details of what Russell had done for her. Rachel just stood there trying to look tough.

"I'm gonna have to get your information so that I can register the gun. Ready to play 20 questions?"

* * *

><p>After another hour behind the large wooden door answers questions among questions, Betty finally removed the lid of the small wooden box she had been carrying. Inside laid a brand new CZ-75 Self-Loading Pistol and a Steyr TMP. Quinn picked up the Steyr and admired it wholly. It was magnificent. It was exactly was she was looking for, but better. It wasn't just a pistol; it was an automatic "rapid-fire" pistol. Why her father would want this type of gun baffled her. But then again her father was a most baffling person – and more likely than not, not in a good way. The CZ-75 was perfect too. Either one could help her out in the end.<p>

Quinn looked up at the clock; it read 3:23.

"SHIT!" Quinn exclaimed. Rachel and Betty jumped high at the sudden outburst.

"What, what is it?" Rachel worriedly said.

"I'm late! I have to get to work! I won't make it in time!"

"Oh let's go! Come on, let's go!" Rachel and Quinn hurriedly rushed to the door from where they had been sitting.

Quinn turned around and addressed Betty, "I'm so sorry for rushing out like this, but I can' be late. It's my first day!"

"Don't worry about it, Quinn. I'll call you when everything else is sorted out."

"Oh my God, thank you so much! I'll talk to you later!" and with that Quinn and Rachel rushed out of the door and were driving down the road in a matter of seconds.

* * *

><p>Thank you so much for reading! If for some reason you want to see what the guns look like here are a couple of links:<p>

Styer TMP: .com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2008/05/steyr_tmp_

CZ-75: .com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2008/05/cz_75_automatic_with_

Please Review! =D


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